


in the space between the finish and the start

by finley_blue



Category: Castle Swimmer (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rebuilding, after chapter 38
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20646209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finley_blue/pseuds/finley_blue
Summary: Siren and Kappa grow—together and apart—learning what they really mean to each other, and ultimately finding their place in each other's lives, at each other's side.





	1. we could build something beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> timeline notes: this fic takes place directly after ch. 38 (season 1)
> 
> fic title is from 'arrow' by half•alive

Siren barely remembers anything from that night.

The words _ attempted murder _ feel slack on his tongue, and Skiff’s brow is dark with worry when he explains the situation. Siren doesn’t usually sleep with guards outside his door, but he can’t help but be thankful for them tonight.

They’re all shaken by the day’s events—horrifyingly public. A crowd gathered to watch; Susca’s imposing, heartbroken presence as she raised the spear, Kappa watching in blank horror, Siren’s desperate scream.

Siren doesn’t even register the pain on his back at first. All he can feel is Kappa clutching his shoulders, trembling but safe, and a momentary rush of relief courses through him.

He looks away from the queen, gut twisting with grief and hurt as he listens to his mother cry out, begging for his salvation. Distantly, he thinks of Jenga blocks, a precarious tower, collapsing under its own weight.

Kappa is curled small in his grip, clutching at his arm in shock, little wisps of his blood coming off in the water. They’re both frozen, uncertain in the sudden absence of absolute catastrophe, and looking below to the mass of confused, agitated people, Siren realizes that he’s the only one here on _ Kappa’s _ side, the only familiar face the Beacon knows on this side of the sea.

“Let’s go,” he says, gritting his teeth against the pain. Kappa scooches closer to him, anxious breaths coming quick and shallow.

“Siren, you need—your back…”

“Keep calm,” Siren murmurs, squeezing him tighter to his chest, unsure if the gesture is meant to comfort Kappa or himself.

“Trying,” Kappa whispers, shivery and panicked on his behalf.

They're escorted to the den for first-aid, a throng of people following them nervously. Siren’s really been here before, never had a serious injury. Kappa sits with him in silence, hands kept close to his body, half-paralyzed. He doesn’t move until the healers wrap Siren’s injury and help stabilize him as he sits.

“Prince,” one of them starts, concerned, “you should probably rest here for the night.”

Siren shakes his head kindly. “Thank you—both of you—so much, but I’d prefer the privacy of my own quarters tonight.”

They give him a large swath of extra bandages and salve, but they don’t stop him like Siren had feared. The water feels heavy, colder than the usual drafts of the castle, and he brings Kappa to his room, because he doesn’t think either of them will be able to sleep without the other within sight, within reach.

They had climbed onto Siren’s bed without a word, crowding together even though there’s plenty of space. Siren, per doctor’s instruction, rests on his stomach, head turned to one side as he watches Kappa, who stares at the ceiling.

“I’m scared,” Kappa says, quiet but unwavering, as if he can feel Siren’ eyes on him.

Siren bites his lip. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Kappa cuts his gaze over, face cast in shadowy blues. “It’s not you.”

Siren doesn’t have anything to say to that, not in this private space with just a few inches between them, so he links their pinkies and hopes that it’s enough. After a moment, Kappa settles his head sideways on Siren’s shoulder, hair drifting under his chin. Their tails brush gently.

In the morning, responsibility will come to collect them and things will be real, but right now they just lay beside each other in this untethered in-between time. Even with Kappa tucked against his side, Siren drifts off slowly, wishing he could forget the way his mother’s face fell apart when he faltered under her spear.

* * *

Siren wakes, not to the usual morning knock on his door or his mother’s greeting, but to a flailing hand that lands just shy of his nose. He jolts awake, blinking wildly, only to see Kappa twitching next to him, clearly asleep.

_ Oh, _ he thinks, taking note of the way Kappa fully lists into him, his fin pressed between them, fluttering and translucent. Siren’s own arm is thrown lightly over his waist, and he thinks fuzzily that he hasn’t felt this warm in ages.

“Kappa?”

He’s not exactly sure what to do. He hasn’t slept alongside someone since childhood, when he still curled into the edge of his parents’ bed. This is different though, and Siren isn’t sure if it’s because it’s unfamiliar or because it’s Kappa that his heart is fluttering nervously beneath his ribcage.

His rambling thoughts are interrupted by Skiff, who bursts into the room, urgency stitched in his words and resolve tightening his spine.

“Prince!” Skiff stops short when he sees them, tangled up in each other like teenagers. He looks away quickly and Siren feels his face go hot as he ducks his head. “Oh, um. Sorry, I can come back.”

“No,” Siren says awkwardly, carefully extracting himself from Kappa, who stirs slightly. He has to be gracious. He has to be an adult. “What is it?”

Skiff turns to face him, face set, and Siren feels something settle in his stomach, the embarrassment going cold in the weight of Skiff’s gaze. “You need to address the people. Siren, you’re our leader now.”

* * *

The guards had given them some space, apparently trusting Kappa to contain Siren’s inevitable panic.

“An hour. I’m supposed to give a speech in an _ hour,” _ Siren drags a hand down his face. “What am I going to say?”

“I didn’t know you were this dramatic,” Kappa says, perched on a nearby ledge.

“I think I’m entitled to some theatrics,” Siren mutters, pacing. “I’m supposed to be the head of our entire castle now, and I have _ no idea _ what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” Kappa gets up, stretching easily. “But they don’t know that.”

“What?”

“I’ve always admired your confidence,” Kappa admits, a little shyly. “Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you always try and do the right thing. You have so much faith in other people.” He’s close now, eyes shining as he looks up at Siren. “I think it’s fair to say that they have faith in you too.”

Siren stares at him dumbly. “Oh.”

Kappa reaches up, hands ghosting over Siren’s head as he fixes a stray strand of hair. “You need to look put together if you want to impress them, though.”

“Right,” Siren says abruptly, feeling his cheeks go pink. “Yes. Impressing them.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Siren shakes himself, letting the cool water steal the blush from his face. His people are counting on him. “You’re right, I can do this. Now, let’s see, for a speech…”

* * *

Siren peeks miserably around the corner at the assemblage of sharks, a quiet murmur among them as they wait for answers. They look a mix of worried and apprehensive, and the water itches his skin, contagion catching. As soon as he swims out before them, they’ll be expecting something, probably hoping for good news, and… well. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Kappa whispers, squeezing his hand.

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve got this, Siren.” Kappa nudges him forward gently, and he yields to the light touch, drifting reluctantly towards the cavern.

“I’ll find you, after,” he promises, and waits to see Kappa nod before taking a deep breath and swimming out into open water.

He can feel the hundreds of eyes on him as he takes his place before them and raises a hand for silence, just as he’s seen his mother do time and time before. A hush falls over the crowd, and Siren feels a numb sort of regality as he pulls himself up to his full height, even with the bandage wrapped tightly over his back. _ Here we go. _

“I know last night was upsetting, and confusing, for many of you. Recently, I have been made aware of some things that I think all of you deserve to know.”

“Firstly, Queen Susca, my mother, has been temporarily removed from her position by the Elders.” A murmur of dissent rolls through the sharks, and Siren clears his throat, trying to keep his authority from slipping out beneath him. His voice is holding steady, but his words have to be strong too.

“You all know the prophecy; that, one day, I would kill the Beacon and save our people. That prophecy is wrong.” Siren takes a breath, eyes darting around the crowd, gaging their reactions. Most have wide eyes, some with clasped hands, all of them waiting for him to speak.

“The Beacon is not destined to die, and anyone who wants to threaten him,” Siren narrows his eyes, gaze sweeping over the crowd, “needs to talk to me.”

“My mother, for her own selfish reasons, changed the prophecy. She lied for years, to me, and to all of you.” Siren shuts his mouth before he can say anything more. Exhales. It’s time to own up to everything. “The _ true _ prophecy states that I will die at the Beacon’s hands. I only learned this yesterday.”

This time, the crowd lets out a little gasp, shifting as a whole as they whisper to themselves, shocked. Siren watches them stoically. “That said—no one is being killed, because we are _ not _ murderers. I will be stepping up and doing my best to sort out the situation, with the help of our Council.”

The finality of that statement reverberates through the hall, and Siren is suddenly floundering, nothing left to say. He swishes his tail, head pulsing with nerves, and tries not to wince under their eyes. Even the rocks feel like they’re judging him. “Uh, are there any questions?”

A brave voice stirs in the back, hidden in the mass of blue. “What will happen to the Queen?”

“Don’t worry, everything is under control,” Siren responds stiffly. A non-answer. Selkie had stressed the importance of popular support and truth in a leader before she pushed him out here, instructions Siren had barely heard in his anxious daze, but he knows that their people need to feel safe. Despite Susca’s deceptive actions, she was masterful and tasteful in her confidence, a pillar of strength that their community came to rely on. Siren wishes he had that kind of charisma.

He bows awkwardly in the following bout of silence, taking his cue to exit. “Thank you.”

He tries not to swim off too fast, but he can’t help but flee when he hears a small, young voice start shouting after him: _ SI-REN! SI-REN! SI-REN! _ One of the pups, probably. It keeps going, a thin chant, and to his surprise more voices gradually join in, the sound growing deeper and bigger.

Siren’s skin prickles, uncertain. He’s heard praise before, of course, but this is different; it’s _ his _ actions, his own legacy that they’re cheering for. That more than anything else sends a small thrill up his spine as he draws his hands into fists and ducks into a gold-lit alcove at the back of the castle, torn between pride and guilt.

“They’re chanting your name.” Kappa smiles up at him.

“Yeah,” Siren swallows.

“That was a good speech.”

“Are you sure? What’s going to happen now?” Siren rakes a hand through his hair, coarse and spiky. “I don’t really have a plan.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Kappa says, without hesitation. “And I’ll help you.”

Kappa’s smile is hopeful dialed towards determined, and Siren can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up. He’s undeserving of this—this unwavering trust, this exuberant loyalty—and yet it comes freely, even from the most impossible places.

“Thanks, Kappa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am in emotional distress over this beautiful comic
> 
> please share your thoughts in the comments :)


	2. while we're stranded at sea

“Prince! I have a letter for you.”

Siren sighs internally. This is becoming a regular thing, though he supposes it’s his fault, after pledging to create better relations with the other castles. He can’t deny that it feels good to sign his name to a better future; his signature has weight now.

It’s been a week since his unofficial auguration as the head of the castle, and everything has started happening too fast and too much. The days are over as soon as they begin, and Siren suddenly has a _ schedule, _ with responsibilities and regulations and requirements. Sleep is elusive. Meetings are endless. His brain doesn’t have room for any daydreaming, too chock-full of unhelpful stressors and policies and reminders.

“Thank you,” he says courteously, accepting the document from the messenger and grimacing at the seal. Nee’s letters are always half nonsense, riddled with random jokes and tangents about sandcastles.

“Who’s that one from?”

Siren yelps and spins around in surprise, almost decapitating the figure behind him. “Selkie! Don’t _ do _ that.”

“Ah, the NeedleNees,” she continues wisely. “A good ally, for the most part. Their queen certainly made an impression.”

“They have an excellent queen,” Siren retorts hotly.

“I never said they didn’t.” Selkie raises an eyebrow. “By the way, you’re due to meet with your advisor. And I would write back to the other castles by today as well.”

“Of course,” he grumbles in acquiescence. There’s so much to do, and Siren’s never been good at following his mental lists. _ This is progress, _ he tells himself. _ I’m helping. _

Selkie smirks at him, as if she can see the struggle on his face. “I’ll remind you again later.”

“Great,” he sighs, and follows her out of the hall. He’s so _ tired. _

* * *

“Could you proofread this?”

Siren holds out a letter impatiently, rubbing at his temples. This is the fourth formal peace declaration he’s written this evening, and the words are starting to blur together on the page. His brain feels like cardboard, mushy and tasteless. Selkie, sitting next to him, takes the letter and resignedly reads through it out loud.

“‘I hope you will humbly accept’—_ accept, _Siren, not except—‘this letter on behalf of the Shark Castle’—that needs to be capitalized. ‘In light of recent events, we are committed to being more connected with our fellow castles.’” Selkie grins toothily at him over the paper. “You’re very… traditional.”

“It sounds like you,” Siren groans, snatching the letter back and scribbling over it. “I can’t send this.”

“Why don’t you take a break and go check on the kitchen?” Selkie offers, nonplussed. She’s the only one who can stand to deal with him on a daily basis. “Ever since you promised to visit, they’ve been excited to see you. Plus, you were supposed to go over the nutritional aspects and changes to the menu.”

“Right.” Siren yawns briefly, already setting down his paper. _ Another assignment. _“I’ll do that.”

“Don’t you steal my dinner when you’re in there!”

“Sure,” Siren says, already swimming off. “As long as you don’t sabotage my penmanship!”

“You call this penmanship? I can barely read it!” Selkie yells, a murky figure in the distance behind him. Siren coughs conspicuously.

“That’s—a choice! It’s artistic!”

* * *

Siren is glad he’s partnered with Seko for the afternoon armoury check, later that week. He was cheated of sleep last night, and he’s sure it shows in his movements—sluggish and lethargic—but Seko doesn’t call him out on it. She’s always been able to read him uncannily well, and picks up his slack without comment.

It’s not until he accidentally knocks a shelf of spears off the wall that Seko steps in, holding a hand out in front of him to stop him from retrieving the floating weapons.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Siren.”

He shuts up, feeling his head start to pound, a cluster of neurons above his right eyebrow. Seko carefully puts away all the spears, securing them tightly, and swims back over to him. Under her gaze, Siren suddenly feels like a naughty child.

“You should be in bed if you’re not feeling well,” she starts.

“I feel fine,” Siren snaps back immediately. “I feel great.”

Seko tilts her head slightly, considering him. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yes, I slept fine,” Siren lies, frustrated. It’s not aimed at her. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate recently, and I don’t—it was—”

Seko waits as he gathers his thoughts. He bites his lip gently, eyes on the ground. “I never expected to be in this position. I didn’t think it was going to be this hard.”

“You’ve taken it up admirably.” Seko’s tone isn’t consoling, just factual, and that helps settle his doubts a little. “People are refreshed to see you working to improve things.”

“Yeah... but it wasn’t hard for—for _ her! _ She made everything run perfectly! I can’t live up to that.”

“You can talk about the Queen if you want. She’s not a convict,” Seko says, eyebrows drawn together. “But it’s not a competition. What you’re doing is just as important, and everything you’ve accomplished is a testament to that. This situation would be difficult for anyone to manage, but your emergency leadership is more meaningful than anything the castle has experienced in a while. Everything you’re working towards resonates with our people, and they appreciate how much effort you’re putting in.”

Siren stares at her. “That’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say in a row.”

“Don’t let me see you beating yourself up again,” she answers, but her voice is more relaxed. “Not when you don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t worry,” Siren says, cracking a small smile. “I’ve got Selkie for that.”

“If you ever need help again with the spears, you know where to find me,” she says smoothly, and turns to fill in the armoury report; a peace offering, disguised as a teasing jab. That’s just the way Seko is—unassuming yet perceptive, and subtle with her favors. Siren likes that about her.

“Sure thing.”

* * *

Siren always has a mission in his eyes nowadays, Kappa notices. He swims around the castle with a regality that surprises Kappa, always rushing to help his castle and step into his role as a leader. It’s motivating to know he’s working so hard, but even Kappa’s quiet pride at his friend’s progress doesn’t make him feel any less like he’s missing something. Still, Kappa doesn’t want to disrupt him or ask for his time, even though he’s scarcely talked to Siren these days.

“He’s just busy,” he tells the fish unconvincingly, cupping a hand around them. He looks away from Siren, who’s talking to Selkie below, and suppresses the way his heart leaps beneath his ribcage. “It’s fine.”

* * *

Siren’s not sure what draws him to the dungeon. Maybe after everything, he’s familiar enough with darkness that such a place doesn’t seem as scary. Breaking away from his guards had sent a slight thrill through his heart, a firm decision, but now, hovering before her cell, his pulse trips over itself, thunderous in his ears.

“Mom—” he starts, not looking at her.

_ “Siren.” _ Her voice is broken, ashy and cautious at the edges. She’s not quite desperate enough to clutch at him through the bars, but she still sounds half-disbelieving, as if she’s looking at an illusion. “You came?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m—” Susca blinks, swallowing past an unexpected lump in her throat. “I’m doing alright, thank you.”

“I told them. I told everyone.” Siren looks up, finally, still hesitant, a child under a parent’s eye. “About the prophecy.”

Susca closes her eyes, long enough that Siren could count the wrinkles on her forehead. “You were always going to.”  
“You’re not mad?”

She looks three hundred years old then, quietly sighing. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I _ am _ safe,” he says to Susca’s searching look. Her gaze still pierces him right through. “I’m fine.”

“For now, at least.”

“What do you mean?” Siren asks cautiously.

“I was fully prepared to sacrifice our entire castle for your life, but not everyone will be as accepting of their own demise.” Susca drops her hands to her sides and faces Siren, her face drawn and unflinching. “And people _ will _ continue to die. As long as you live, the curse will live with you.”

“Kappa and I are going to find another way to break the curse,” he counters stubbornly, aware of how stupid it sounds out loud, but Kappa’s rare confidence is numbingly contagious, and Siren’s been holding on to their plan_—dream—_like a lifeline ever since then.

“The Beacon?” Susca laughs, but there’s no mirth in her tone. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for years? Why do you think your father left?” She turns away, suddenly despairing, and tucks a wisp of loose hair behind her ear. “There is no other way.”

He’s quiet, drifting uneasily in front of her cell. The damp green light and looming dungeon slopes remind him eerily of only a week earlier, when he was the one behind bars, his world shaken to its core, staring after his mother as she swam away. The solitude of imprisonment eats at you, and he wants to apologize for the slump of Susca’s shoulders, the way the shadows hug her body.

“Why didn’t you listen to me, Siren?”

“I couldn’t kill him, mom. I can’t.” He shakes his head unconsciously, rejecting the thought. “And I hate lying. I’m terrible at it.”

“That’s true.”

“It’s not fair.” Siren looks down, somber. “ No one should have to die.”

“I know,” Susca agrees. Light strikes the contours of her face, tired and vain, and Siren watches her eyes drop closed, pinched with hard understanding. He follows her gaze to the wall, where his smiling face is scratched into the stone. Kappa’s work. “But please, Siren.”

“I—”

“There’s still danger.” Susca pulls herself up, spine straightened. “Even some of our own could come after you now that they know you’re the key to breaking the curse. You need to leave as soon as possible. Get away from here.”

“I can’t,” Siren says. “I’m—I’m in charge now.”

“You?”

“You never told me how much work there is,” Siren accuses. “I’m so tired of going to meetings, and giving speeches, and reading scrolls. I oversee _ everything _; visiting the infirmary and taking surveys and assessing food storage. And inter-castle diplomacy as well!”

“I apologize,” Susca says slowly, looking at him curiously. “I didn’t prepare you for this.”

“No, you didn’t,” Siren answers. “You indulged me as a child, and set my whole life towards an impossible task that was never even real to begin with.”

“I should have—”

“There were a lot of things you should have done,” he exhales, “and a lot of things you shouldn’t have. But maybe it’s better this way. Now… I get to remake everything, all on my own.”

The silence seems to speak for itself. Siren steals a glance at his mother, half-shrouded in blue, her hands tight at her sides. Even in this despairing place, she wears the water like she owns it—regal and beautiful.

“I may have done wrong by you.” Susca speaks quietly, eyebrows drawn together regretfully. “But you are doing great things.”

She looks up, and carefully removes her crown from her head, hair coming loose as she swims forward. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she offers him the crown through the bars. She looks younger without it, more open, the scar on her cheek more prominent. “I will always be proud of you.”

“Mom,” Siren starts, a lump rising in the back of his throat. “I can’t take this.”

“You should have it.”

“Okay,” he whispers, finally. The crown is heavier than his other jewelry, a smooth weight in his hand. “You know I’m not going to wear it, though.”

Susca smiles, half-sad. “Be careful. The prophecy persists.”

Siren can only nod, fingers opening and closing in a lame goodbye. He can feel the distance stretching between them like taffy as he makes his way out of the dungeon up towards lighter waters, only just catching the last of Susca’s whisper.

_ “Stay safe, Siren.” _

* * *

Siren eats by himself. Well, not by himself exactly—Skiff joins him and drags Seko with him—but their conversation happens over his head as he picks at his dinner, subdued. Siren’s made a point of sitting with his people during meals recently, but today he tunes out all the extraneous discussions; the rumble of families settling down after a long day, the bright laughter of the pups, the easy intimacy of couples. He’s not sulking—he’s _ not— _but his heart feels dense and heavy, like a shell sinking into the deep.

“Are you okay?”

Siren looks up to Skiff’s worried gaze, and smooths out the pinch between his eyebrows. “Yeah. Just… thinking.” He forces a smile. “Actually, I’m not that hungry. I might go to bed early tonight.”

“Okay,” Skiff says, sounding unsure. “Do you need an escort…?”

“Um, no,” he replies, already gathering up the remains of his food, the beginnings of an idea striking him. “But thanks for offering.”

“Goodnight, then.” Seko nods at him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“You too,” Siren answers distractedly, missing the way they glance at each other while he slips quietly out of the hall.

He hadn’t thought about it before, but having Kappa around was uniquely comforting. They can read each other so well, a cadence of expression that’s all their own.

Siren feels a little guilty that he hasn’t seen much of his friend the past week, even though he’s responsible for everyone in the castle. They share a room at night, but at that point they’re both beyond tired for any lucid conversation, and Kappa sleeps well into the mornings. Siren’s always reluctant to pull away, but duty calls early and prompt. He hopes can make up some of that time now.

“Hey.” Siren knocks lightly on his doorframe.

“H-hi!” Kappa twists around too quickly and almost falls in his haste. He’s curled into himself on Siren’s bed, pouring over a scroll. “Hi, Siren.”

“How’s your day been?”

“Good, I guess. I learned how to braid seagrass.” Kappa shrugs. He tilts his head to one side, evaluating Siren. “How about you?”

“I visited my mom.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t—she didn’t do anything,” Siren says, pausing in the middle of the room. He looks away. “I just… don’t know if I was ready to see her.”

“What did she say to you?” Kappa asks cautiously.

“She’s still worried about me.” Siren crinkles his nose. “Irrationally.”

“About the prophecy?”

“Yeah. She thinks I’m in danger.” He blows out a long breath, his hand coming up to cover half of his face. “It’s just hard to reconcile both sides of her. Even after everything, she’s still my family.”

“And that’s okay.” Kappa’s staring at him—a little nervous, a lot determined. “You don’t have to give her up, Siren.”

He hums noncommittally, still distantly shaken by something he can’t explain, and focuses on Kappa, sprawled over his bed. Maybe that’s a mistake, because he feels a pang seeing the shiny strip of still-healing skin torn through Kappa’s tail and knowing who caused it; remembering his mother’s harsh expression as she stood over them, red through the tinted water.

Maybe it’s because he grew up in the castle, but to Siren, scars are an identity. Scars have unity. They represent experience.

His own skin was unmarred. Flawless. Perfect, as people have said, but that’s a descriptor he feels unworthy of, a thought he lets burrow into a deep part of his heart. All the other sharks have scars. Why is he so different?

It distinguishes him when he’s older; he can feel the wondering eyes of pups on his back as he swims through the castle, and their whispers of _ that’s him, that’s the prince. _ The title became a small burden as begins to understand the bloody nature of the prophecy, a destiny that would wait a lifetime for him to fill a single purpose. He had stopped eating in the main hall, and cast his eyes away from the populace, littered with jagged markings, remnants of his own ineptitude.

Even now that he has a scar of his own—burning, emblazoned on his back—he still feels distinct from the others. He can’t undo his past.

Siren runs his fingers over Kappa’s arm, feather-light. His golden scales, shimmering in the low light, are interrupted by a harsh line of healing tissue, a score of rough skin. Kappa’s beautiful either way, but still.

“I’m sorry,” Siren says quietly.

Kappa’s face scrunches up, confused. “What for?”

“Your wounds are…”

“They’ll heal,” Kappa replies easily.

“Yeah, but—” Siren gestures helplessly, unable to articulate his mess of feelings.

Kappa looks at him intently, eyebrows drawn together. “My scars are _ not _ your failures.”

“I know,” Siren replies, ducking his head.

“If anything, I should be the one apologizing,” Kappa says, looking anywhere but the wound stretched across Siren’s back. He doesn’t meet Siren’s eyes.

“Don’t,” Siren says preemptively, and Kappa goes quiet. The water is so still around them that it feels invisible, as if they were floating in thin air. It’s ethereal, especially with the way Kappa’s scales glow like tiny fireflies, pinpoints in the dark.

“I’m not invincible.” Kappa breaks the silence, laughing nervously, his hand clutched to his chest. “That wasn’t included in the All Powerful Beacon package, unfortunately.”

“You should ask for an upgrade,” Siren jokes. It’s a weak attempt at humor, but Kappa smiles at him anyway.

“I get it, though,” Kappa offers, twisting his fingers together. “Some mer communities suffer for ages before I arrive to fulfill their prophecies, and I’m the only one with the power to change things. I can’t run away from my responsibilities, even though I want to, sometimes. I would be letting them down.”

“My castle—I’m the same way. I’m _ trying, _ I’m really trying, but being in charge of everything is hard, and people come back with new injuries every day.” Siren closes his eyes briefly, unable to prevent his frustration from wavering on his face. “No one will let me _ help, _ even now that I… ”

“You’re not letting them down by living,” Kappa says softly. He’s close now, close enough to touch, the water a deep blue against the glow of his tail. “Siren.”

“We can’t keep putting off the prophecy forever,” Siren replies, stricken. “You’re the Beacon!”

“I don’t want to be the Beacon!” Kappa draws back, pulling a hand to his chest. “I’m not—I can’t _ kill _ you! You’re the first being that’s treated me like a normal person instead of some misguided savior, or even just an object!” He takes a breath, small and shoulders trembling slightly. “Sorry. I just—I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t,” Siren says immediately, moving to take Kappa’s hand. It’s warm against his own, and he can feel Kappa’s quick heartbeat in his wrist. “I won’t. Okay? I promise.”

Kappa softens under his touch, and Siren’s throat feels too tight to breathe properly. He stares at their clasped hands; it’s muscle memory to pull Kappa close, but his heart burns—wanting yet conflicted. His head is still clouded with thoughts of his mother, infected with her paranoia and talk of fate.

“Are you okay?” Kappa asks, a strand of worry in his voice.

Siren nods quietly. “Yeah. Just… tired.” He doesn’t move. Kappa doesn’t either. They stay there for a while, just holding each other in place. Exhaustion has worn them down to their rawest parts; Siren’s face pressed into Kappa’s hair, Kappa’s forehead tilted against Siren’s chest.

Some scars are more than surface level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really wanted to delve into how siren would deal with having royal responsibilities, and how taking on such a big role would affect him. i love his transformation from being dependent to taking a more active role in his own future, and i thought it would be cool to explore that.
> 
> susca is complicated, so hopefully she sounds true to character. also seko ended up having a much longer scene than i originally planned, but that's okay because she's awesome
> 
> i have at least half a plan for this fic, i promise. thanks for sticking with me! :)


	3. even if we fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while (whoops), but i should have the rest of this up pretty regularly  
enjoy!

Siren receives an envelope one day. The corner is crumpled just a little, but otherwise pristine. A waxy seal pressed carefully onto the paper bears a well-known, intricate emblem.

“Thank you,” Siren tells the messenger, pasting on a passable smile before turning back into his chambers, his mouth tightening. He berates himself for feeling this way; this is a blessing, this is much-needed aid, this is correspondence and growth. This is his _job_ as the head of the castle, and yet he dreads every inch of obligation he is forced to uphold.

The letter burns scarlet on his bed, untouched.

* * *

“Hey, Mr. Beacon!”

“Huh?” Kappa turns as a small finger pokes his shoulder. It’s muscle memory to flinch back, and he’s jumpy from being left to himself all day. It’s almost more lonely living amongst an entire castle filled with people who don’t really talk to him than living alone in the open ocean.

“Woah, you’re squishy!”

“I am not,” Kappa retorts, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. Two shark pups have approached him, all tiny flippers and tufty hair, looking at him curiously. They giggle, squirming.

“Hey, Mr. Beacon, are you dating the prince?” one of them asks, staring at him with wondering eyes.

“What?” Kappa says dumbly, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks involuntarily. Siren’s not even _here._ Kappa hasn’t seen him in a little while actually, given Siren’s horde of new responsibilities. “No! I—we—no, we’re not. In a relationship. Nope.”

“Really?” the kid asks. “‘Cause I heard that he _liiiikes_ you.”

“He _like-_likes you,” the other pup clarifies, smiling as if he’s presenting Kappa with a gift. “Just like mommy and daddy!”

“Really,” Kappa squeaks.

“Yep!”

“And, um, who—what are your parents?” God help him, _why_ can’t he form words. “Sorry. What are your parents like?”

The kids shift uncertainly, suddenly quiet, a little forlorn. Guilty. “My dad said that we shouldn’t trust you,” one of them admits hesitantly.

“Ah,” Kappa says carefully, not allowing the sinking feeling in his chest to color his words. He’s been the outsider before, ostracized and isolated. It’s nothing new.

“But the prince likes you!” one of the kids pipes up, as if sensing his inner dismay. “We like the prince, and the prince likes you, so—so we like you too!”

“Thank you,” Kappa answers uncertainly. “What are your names?”

“Sera!”

“I’m Sol!”

“Your scales are really pretty,” Sera says, reaching a hand out and retracting it nervously when Kappa startles back. “Can I…?”

“Okay,” Kappa answers quickly, overwhelmed. He feels overheated.

People don’t touch him often. Lately, Siren’s the only one he’s allowed to get close, to guide his hands or squeeze his shoulders. He misses Siren and his gentle smiles, their easy conversations, the acceptance and safety of having a friend. These kids pet him with an awkward reverence, fingertips grazing lightly over his arms, but the warmth of it is nice, especially after a week of cold glances in the corridors.

“You should eat with us at dinner!”

“Um, if you’re sure…”

“Yeah! You can tell us about the prince’s secret soap collection!”

“His _what?”_

* * *

Siren goes to dinner quietly. He feels like a wraith trapped inside the halls of the castle, shadows under his eyes and incompetence clenched between his teeth. _Burden,_ his brain whispers scathingly. _You? A ruler? Ha._

_“Stop it,”_ Siren growls to himself, hands tightening. He stabs a piece of his dinner viciously.

“Hungry, are we?” Skiff teases, coming over with his own portion of food.

“Just...tired,” Siren manages with a weak smile. Skiff looks at him carefully, but doesn’t say anything. Siren doesn’t think he deserves the company or the solidarity, but he supposes it comes with the territory of being childhood friends.

They fall into silence. Siren gnaws on his dinner half-heartedly and looks out over the dining hall. His eyes land on Kappa, sitting across the way, a spot of bright gold against the gaping ocean. Two pups—siblings?—are talking to him animatedly.

Skiff follows his line of sight. “Is that Sera and Sol with him? I’m glad he’s making some friends. He’s seemed a bit lonely.”

“Really?”

Skiff glances at him sideways. “Yeah. Haven’t you seen him recently? I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

Siren blushes. On the other side of the cavern, Kappa is similarly pink, to the ecstatic grins of the pups chattering next to him. He peeks a glance at Siren, eyes quickly darting away when he sees Siren staring back at him.

_Cute,_ Siren thinks immediately, watching Kappa cover his face with his hands. Skiff nudges him, smirking. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” Siren says.

“You should talk to him,” Skiff advises. “Don’t shut him out.”

_“Please_ don’t wingman my love life,” Siren groans. He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’m not shutting him out… exactly. I’m just dealing with a lot right now, and he doesn’t need to be involved.”

“Do you need help with your official duties?” Skiff asks. He’s concerned, which is fair, given how Siren’s been acting. “I can tell the Elders to back off, or something.”

“It’s not that,” Siren replies. “I just need time to sort through my thoughts. There’s a lot of decisions to make.” He looks down at his hands, away from Kappa. There’s too much in his heart for him to think about this—whatever-they-have—right now.

“I got a letter today,” Siren admits. “I’ve been invited to a conference with the neighboring castles. They’re open to negotiations for reforming our alliance. They’ve offered to help us.”

“That’s great,” Skiff says. His face betrays nothing.

“I’m going,” Siren announces, and it feels more real when he says it out loud. He’s going. Leaving, if only for a couple days. “But I would need someone to act in my place. To lead the castle while I’m gone.”

“Siren—”

“I’m hoping it can be you.”

“Me?” Skiff looks blindsided, his dinner abandoned.

“Yes,” Siren says firmly, looking him in the eyes. “You’re strong, and capable. You’re good with people, responsible and steadfast. I think you would make a great leader.”

Skiff stares at him for a long moment. His face is young and his curls are everywhere, but Siren can see the steel in him. “I would be honored.”

“I’ll clear the temporary transfer with the Council tonight.”

“Wait, when is the conference?” Skiff asks, brows pinched together.

Siren smiles wryly, and claps him on the shoulder. “I leave in three days.”

* * *

Kappa doesn’t mean to go to the dungeon.

He’s been roaming the castle for days now, mildly paranoid yet still bored out of his mind. Maybe he’s looking for comfort, because, weirdly enough, the dungeon originally meant safety to him. It was where he met Siren, after all.

Anyways, he forgets to account for the fact that the dungeon is being utilized for its actual purpose of _being a dungeon_ and _containing dangerous(?) prisoners._

“Hello,” the queen says. She looks faintly amused.

This is the woman who almost brought a spear down on his back. Who dragged him away and kept him imprisoned for weeks. Who… is Siren’s mother.

“H-hi,” Kappa mumbles. “Um, sorry to bother you.”

“It’s a welcome distraction.”

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he blurts, twisting his fingers together out of habit. “I can go.”

“I’m not surprised you came,” Susca says simply.

“You’re not?”

“No. Though I thought you might have come for revenge, or vindication.” She gestures to the bars between them. “It seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not like that,” Kappa answers. _I’m not like you._ “Siren said he visited.”

“He did,” she confirms, then hesitates. “How is he handling things?”

Kappa thinks of the Siren’s distance at dinner, his frequent absences, the near-constant stress in his eyes. “He’s… fine.”

“Can you—” Susca asks, “Could you look after him?” The latter-half of the sentence goes unspoken: _Because I can’t right now._

He nods slowly. “Siren wants to forgive you, I think. He’s kind that way.”

“Yes.”

“But, I—” Kappa peers sideways at the queen. Her face befallen with the shadows of the cell bars, and the scar over her eye glitters sinisterly. He shudders slightly; in this lighting, she looks more than a little demonic, and the memory of her desperate bloodlust comes up too fresh. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

“That’s okay,” she says, and she looks pained. “I’m not asking you to accept an apology… though, I am sorry for how I treated you.”

Kappa ducks his head, and squeezes his fist to his chest. His heart is too fast, but he’s still breathing okay, and this is important.

“I can see how much you mean to him.”

“What?” His head snaps up.

Susca looks sad. Or relieved? “You’re… good for him.” She doesn’t smile, but her face loses some of its tension. “You’re something of a miracle, Beacon.”

Their gazes lock, but there’s less hostility now. _Maybe she just needs time. Time to heal._ He can understand that. Wilting, then rising. Living a warped, customized destiny.

He smiles, wobbly. “Call me Kappa.”

* * *

_Dread—impending, imminent._

_Inevitable, perhaps._

Selkie wakes up in darkness, chest constricted with unease. Something’s wrong. There’s movement—too much movement to pretend it’s Siren sneaking out for a midnight snack.

“What happening?” she asks. Sharks hurry along the corridors like shadows slipping across the ocean floor; they swim sharp and panicked. “Tell me,” she implores them.

_Who is it,_ Selkie thinks, and then, _Where’s Siren?_ He’s at the epicenter of everything these days.

She stumbles upon the scene completely by accident.

It’s not Siren. It’s Saffron—a kindhearted shark and mother to two. Selkie remembers babysitting for her pups; the two of them played with her hair, fascinated, until their mother laughed easily and pulled their hands away. She was carefree and lovely, and didn’t mind how her scars ripped across her face.

And yet.

_(Wherever happiness is destroyed, there’s always—the smell of blood.)_

Saffron is floating, listless, held close in someone’s arms. Her hair is caught in a stray beam of moonlight, like wisps of silver around her head. In the dim grey light, scales glimmering, she looks like she’s ascending.

“No,” someone says, behind her. “No!”

The water is murky. Selkie is almost thankful for it.

“Siren, wake up.”

“Wh… Skiff? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know. You need to get up.”

“Why?”

“Come on, this is serious.”

“I’m awake, I’m awake, geez! Stop poking me.”

“I have some bad news.”

“What’s wrong?”

“...It’s Saffron.”

“Sera and Sol’s mom?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“She—Siren, she’s _dead.”_

There hadn’t been many injuries in a while, much less a death. Things were getting better. Everything was looking up.

Siren curses his false hope. Now it just hurts that much more. He loses track of the day, memory faulty with stress and dissociation.  
He blusters his way through funeral preparations, throwing himself into the task as if it would help him forget that someone is gone. Not invisible, or banished.

Dead.

Saffron is_—was—_a mother to two. Her kids are being kept in the den, surrounded by hovering healers. The younger one hasn’t even gotten his first scar yet.

_Stupid,_ Siren chides himself. _You haven’t solved anything. How are you going to protect your people? How can you save them?_

(He knows the solution: the prophecy. But it’s not a real option. Kappa can’t—he refuses to—hurt Siren. Siren wonders if his friend still thinks that, after this tragedy. Siren wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind.)

It’s not the first death Kappa’s seen, but it’s his first funeral.

It’s solemn, respectful, beautiful even, but it’s wrought with misery and mourning and Kappa feels _awful._

But even more than that, as a glowing outlier among a dark sea of sharks, he feels _alone._

He shares their grief, but this is his own burden too. Indirectly or not, as the Beacon, this is his fault. In this community full of plague and hardship, he is unreasonably blessed with life, and that sets him apart.

He brushes shoulders with someone and bows his head with the crowd in silence. This is a firsthand failure. This is real—very, incredibly real—and it is _so_ much worse in real life than in his nightmares.

Sera and Sol are at the front of the crowd, Sera holding her brother as he clings to her shoulders, trembling. They both look so small. It must hurt to lose a parent like this, to an uncertain, prophesied curse, so cutthroat and out of the blue.

Kappa clenches his hand to his heart and closes his eyes hopelessly as something cracks inside his chest.

* * *

“Are you ready to go?”

Seko is accompanying him to the conference, either as a guard or as a babysitter, Siren’s not sure. (Maybe as a friend.)

“Yeah, I’m packed.”

It hurts to leave when his castle is still grieving, but hopefully he can return with news of alliances and aid. Siren wants _so badly_ to help, but most of the time he can’t see a way to do it. Maybe this trip will yield a solution.

They pass Selkie on their way out. She only insults him once, and wishes them luck. “Thank you,” Seko says, on Siren’s behalf. “We’ll see you soon.”

Siren swims on silently, Seko trailing him. The invitation letter is heavy in his satchel. He accidentally smeared the wax seal; hopefully that’s not a crime. He doesn’t really know what to expect.

They’re about to venture into the open ocean when Siren stops, feeling a tug in his chest, warm and familiar. He floats back a few paces, turning slightly, as if drawing closer to a magnet. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Siren!” Kappa rounds the corner. He sounds out of breath. “Siren!”

“Kappa,” he breathes, and this is the first time they’ve spoken in days. _What happened to them?_ Kappa’s hair is unruly, like he’s been scraping his hand through it anxiously, and he has circles under his eyes.

“Siren.” Kappa says, again. He looks at them, and their bags, processing. “I—wait. Wait. You… you’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry,” Siren replies. “It’s only for a couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Kappa face crumples a little bit. Siren would love to hold him and smooth out his edges, but he doesn’t know if that would be welcome.

“It’s just a conference for the castles in our region,” Seko reassures him.

“Right.” Kappa pulls a hand to his chest, retreating into himself a little. “Well, um, I hope it goes well.”

“I hope so too,” Siren says lamely. “I wish…” _I wish that we could escape our responsibilities sometime. I wish that we could spend more time together. I wish that you liked me the same way I like you._

“We should go,” Seko interjects reluctantly, looking from Kappa to Siren. “Is everything ok?”

_No. I don’t know. Maybe things will be, in the future._

“I’ll be rooting for you,” Kappa says softly, and offers him a small smile. Siren can only nod in return.

It’s hard to swim away from the castle. It’s hard to swim away from Kappa. The catalyst pulls harder the farther he gets from his home. Siren thinks it’s a bit of a test.

He looks back, just once. Kappa is glowing, unmistakable, at the edge of the entrance hall, Skiff hanging back behind him. A line of light connects them, stemming from Siren’s chest and ending hundreds of yards away in Kappa’s. Their shared catalyst. An unbreakable bond.

“I’m sorry,” Siren whispers, and turns back around.

The golden threads splinter down the middle, pulling one last time before they finally give out, and snap.

It feels like freedom.

It feels like drowning.

(When Siren turns around, he can’t see Kappa anymore.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so  
it gets worse before it gets better
> 
> :)


	4. apart

Kappa watches the catalyst grow thinner and thinner, watches Siren swim farther and farther away until he’s nothing more than a speck, and distantly comes to the conclusion that he’s going to break down when the catalyst connecting them inevitably breaks.

_ Because it _ is _ inevitable, isn’t it. It always is. No one ever stays for long. _

He feels the exact moment it snaps; it sends him tumbling forward and he jerks spastically, grabbing for something_—anything—_to ground him. He thinks it’s Skiff who takes his arm and gently guides him away.

“I can’t—” Kappa chokes out hoarsely, “I—I can’t _ breathe.” _

He wheezes thinly, vision going fuzzy at the edges, though he can’t tell if it’s from heartache or lack of air. His chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.

“It’ll be alright.” Skiff hovers nervously. Kappa can’t tell where he is exactly, too preoccupied with trying to keep the air in his lungs. He coughs.

“I don’t—I can’t feel it anymore!”

His voice is withering, small and desperate. He clutches his hand to his chest as if pressing down on an invisible wound, as if holding his heart together would save him from unraveling.

“Kappa?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he croaks, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” Skiff puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Kappa realizes he’s shaking. He blinks back the tears aching behind his eyes.

“Siren,” he blurts out. “The catalyst; it snapped. I can’t, I don’t know—” He’s not making much sense, but Skiff nods anyway.

“It’s okay,” Skiff says comfortingly. “He’ll be back soon.”

“It feels like he’s been gone for a while already, with how little I talk to him,” Kappa whispers, hunching into himself. “But it’s stupid to miss someone that you see almost every day.”

He stays that way for a few minutes, Skiff’s hand resting on his back as fine tremors run down his spine. His lungs feel scorched, his breathing too shallow and stuttered on its way in. His face is too warm, or maybe his fingers are too cold as he scrubs at his eyes. This has been a long time coming, probably.

When he pulls himself upright, still trembly, Skiff is looking at him kindly, and Kappa can see echoes of that day, not so long ago, that the shark had dabbed healing salve on his wounds. In a way, Skiff was the first person—after Siren—that had helped him.

“Do you need anything?” Skiff asks patiently, and, when he shakes his head numbly, steers him out of the hall to a smaller, more private space. Kappa sits down gingerly, head ducked down and hands twisted together in his lap.

“It’s stupid,” he says softly.

“It’s not.”

“I’ve never stayed in one place so long.” Kappa hugs his tail to his chest, eyes darting around the castle. It’s been a while since the ocean felt like home. “I’ve never had a reason to. But now…”

“Siren’s always been special,” Skiff says. “Did you know, when we were kids, he was so interested in our ancestors’ paintings that he collected enough ink to make his own mural? It wasn’t a great drawing, but he drew the two of you holding hands. He was always excited to meet you.”

“Really?” Kappa chokes on a sob-laugh, throat still dry.

Skiff nods. “He tends to bring out the best in people.”

“He’s amazing,” Kappa agrees, shy and a bit wistful.

“He really cares about you,” Skiff admits, watching him. “Though, he probably needs a slap to face before he does anything about it.”

“W-What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Skiff pats a hand over Kappa’s chest, smiling. “You’re special to him, too. He probably misses you more than you think.”

* * *

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“For the last time, Nee, he’s not my boyfriend.”

_ “Yet.” _

“Not happening.”

“What? _ You’re _ the one always making goo-goo eyes at him.”

“Ohmygod _ stop.” _

The conference is being held in the Upper Regions. The water is lighter—a sort of clear, baby blue, rather than the dark indigo currents that Siren is used to. There’s sand too, a soft ground level sediment that shifts beneath them. It falls through his fingers when he takes a handful of it in his palm.

Siren feels like a tourist rather than a king.

“Look at that! Is it _ glowing?” _

He’s interrupted by a group of Whiskerfins. “King Siren of the Sharks, I presume?”

“Oh. Yes,” Siren replies.

“And I’m Queen Nee!”

“Of course,” the Whiskerfin says wearily. Siren gets the impression that Nee has met them before. “We have prepared accommodations for you, right this way.”

“You’re the talk of the town, hot stuff,” Nee says as they trail through the low hallways. There are shells embedded into the archways in intricate patterns. Siren wants to touch everything.

“What?”

“The Shark Kingdom is super mysterious,” Nee continues dramatically. “We haven’t had real contact with your castle in ages. You’re the unknown variable, the handsome and cryptic prince! All the boys will be swooning, for suresies.”

“I don’t think he’s interested,” Seko smirks. “I mean, he’s already got a crush.”

Siren swats at her. And misses. They keep swimming down the hallway.

He presses his hand to his chest, frowning. He feels untethered, a little more alone without the catalyst connecting them. He hadn’t realized how comforting it was to have a constant reminder of his friend, tucked under his chest like a secret.

He hopes Kappa is doing okay.

* * *

The meeting time is set for that afternoon. They’re shown to a large, open-roofed common room, which has been hastily spruced up by a few silvery plants spilling out of their pots. People from all walks of life meander around, chatting idly.

Siren says _ hello, nice to meet you _to a stream of probably-important-people. His hands are locked up with tension. Introductions go in one ear and out the other; he doesn’t remember anyone’s names.

“Relax,” Seko advises him. “You deserve to be here as much as they do.”

_ No, I don’t, _Siren thinks, but he nods, swallows, and straightens his back. He surreptitiously fidgets with the crown on his head; he told Susca he wouldn’t wear it, but Selkie had pressed it into his hands before they left. It gives him some clout, he supposes. There’s power in that.

Seko eyes him gently. She’s in full uniform as well. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing around the dry taste in his mouth.

“Attention, everyone!” It’s a Jellyla, arms raised at the head of the room, smiling sharply. “Thank you for coming. We are about to start.”

One of the Tuna turns to Siren abruptly. “Where’s the Beacon?”

“What do you mean?” Siren asks guardedly, not quite looking at her.

“We were told that you were the last one in contact with him. That he was sighted in your waters. So, where is he?”

“Why do you need to know?” There’s a tinge of temper under his words. The others are getting riled up as well; he can feel their eyes on him. Nee shifts uncomfortably a few seats over.

_ “Why? _ He is the _ Beacon. _ He needs to fulfill our prophecies!” 

“He gets to make his own choices about what he wants to do!” Siren bites out scathingly. Looking around, he’s reminded that this room is full of strangers who, while good-intentioned, are blinded by greed and lust when it comes to their prophecies. He bubbles with muted anger at their selfishness.

“Fulfilling prophecies his entire purpose!”

“It is _ not _ his job to be your personal genie!”

“Siren, everyone,” Krilli starts, looking worried, “calm down for a second.”

“No!” Siren exhales heavily. His heartbeat knocks against his skull, overpowered with a shock of anger. “No, _ ‘the Beacon’ _ is not just an item to be traded around. The Beacon has a _ name, _ and is an actual human being with feelings.”

“Just stop hoarding the Beacon, we all know you have him,” someone accuses, and Siren’s chest blooms with fresh fury.

“You don’t know anything about him,” he half-snarls, memories flickering in the corners of his eyes. “Kappa is wonderful. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, caring and genuine to everyone. He’s shy, and funny, and beautiful. He’s brave and determined, and his courage always gives me strength.” Siren holds their attention, standing silver and steely before the room.

“He helps people. That’s just how he is, and that’s not going to change. But Kappa is his own person, and he’s allowed to make his own decisions and live for himself. Stop treating him like a piece of meat! He doesn’t owe you _ anything,” _ Siren finishes with conviction. “Don’t insult him, or me, by behaving this way.”

The water feels thin from the tension, stretched still and quiet for one long moment.

Then, it explodes.

People press forward; faces twisting downwards, mouths shaped like insults. Everyone is talking in raised voices and violent gestures, as if they’ve been knighted in belligerence. Siren feels a faint buzz of satisfaction under his surface panic. He stares them down as Seko pulls him away from the mess of the crowd, her face set with resignation.

Nee finds him in the mob. “You’re crazy,” she shouts proudly over the noise.

“Thanks,” Siren yells back.

They somehow make it back to the door. A Whiskerfin opens it, hurriedly ushering them out, and says icily, “Thank you for your appearance, King Siren.”

Siren gets the feeling it’s an invitation to leave.

They swim through the deserted hallways with a distracted sense of purpose, listening to the muffled ruckus in the conference room behind them. The unfamiliar castle is all spritely and beachy among the distant shouting, and Siren is suddenly struck with guilty regret. He’s overwhelmed by the serene, light-flooded corridors; they feel like a contradiction to the chaos of the conference. His head thrums silently, latching onto memories of Kappa.

He rakes his hand through his hair, trying to right the upside-down gravity in his throat. This isn’t the peace or friendship he was trying for. What has he done?

“Did I screw everything up?” he asks, at length.

Seko looks at him, contemplating. “No,” she says.

“Oh. That’s… good.”

“Change doesn’t happen in a single day, Siren. It’s messy. You have to make choices about what’s important, even if it doesn’t align with everyone else’s perspective.”

“But did I make the correct choice?” Siren stresses. His heart yearns in his chest, kindling memories of a copper tail and a kind smile. His own true north.

“Don’t worry.” Seko gives him a rare smile. “You did the right thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love a f̶e̶r̶a̶l̶ supportive bf


	5. we will come together again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that anyone asked, but i had fun designing all the chapter titles (if you read them sequentially, they make a poem ;)

The castle comes back into sight like a stone dropping through water. Siren visually peels away the layers of water until he can see the dark spires and the craggy rock outlets that hold a faint glow from inside. The deep blues and blacks shrouding it make it look like the residence of a maniacal shut-in, or a hermit’s headquarters, or a weird, inverted anthill.

To Siren, it just looks like home. He allows himself a small sigh of relief.

“Had enough of traveling?” Seko asks.

“No.” He doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied. He has nineteen long years to make up for, and now that he’s had a taste of it, he wants to see absolutely everything. “Just… enough for now.”

“That’s fair.”

They swim the rest of the way back in silence. He can tell Seko’s tired. She’s always struck as someone who appreciates quiet.

Siren is humming with internal energy, as antsy as he is comfortable. Now back in the familiarity of his own waters, impossible, huge thoughts alight upon his head like butterflies, departing into ideas on small, determined wings.

Change is in the air. Or (more accurately) water, but the metaphor still stands.

Siren isn’t wearing any of his traditional jewelry; he took them off after the conference, and hasn’t put them back on. Maybe it was his mother’s blessing that allowed him to wear the crown then—her strength flowing through him when he addressed the castle delegates.

_ Maybe it’s the last time someone of their lineage rules the Shark Castle. _

Siren thinks these things, hastily unthinks them, thinks them again. He shakes his mind clear as he crosses into the armoury to find the person he’s looking for.

“Skiff!”

“Siren!”

Skiff turns around, hair puffed up with helmet-hair. He’s still wearing his armour, so they complete an awkward high-five-pinky-promise type of thing.

“We need a secret handshake,” Siren decides, untangling his bag.

“Okay.” Skiff looks happy to see him. “How was your trip?”

“It was, uh… informative.”

“It’s good to have you back,” Skiff says. His teeth are sharp, but his smile is friendly.

“It’s nice to be home,” Siren answers. An automatic response, but true nonetheless.

“We missed you,” Skiff says sincerely. His brow suddenly pinches as if remembering something painful, and Siren almost asks what’s wrong when Skiff speaks again. “Kappa missed you a lot.”

Siren’s chest gets heavier, gravity stretching his insides. “Oh.”

“He… _ felt _ it when you left.”

“I did, too,” Siren admits quietly, sidetracked by his heart. “Is—is he okay?”

“He’ll be just fine,” Skiff reassures him, setting a hand on his shoulder. It refocuses Siren, bringing him back to his original mission here, with Skiff.

“How about everyone else? How were things while I was away? I hope there wasn’t any trouble for you, as the acting ruler.”

“No, everything is fine.” Skiff rubs a hand behind his neck. “Actually, I’d say things went really smoothly.”

Siren smiles. “I knew it would. You’ve always been better at this kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Skiff,” Siren says resolutely, pausing, turning the idea over in his mind one last time, “I want you to be king.”

“Siren—”

_ “Really. _ I’m sure. I’ve thought about this.”

“But—what about you?”

“I know what I want to do.”

And he does. It’s so simple, he hadn’t even realized it was possible: he wants to carve his own path in the world, freed of the responsibilities to the crown or his castle. And he wants to do it with Kappa.

Before anything else, though, he needs to actually _ find _ Kappa—the one person who had stood by him through everything—and hug him and hold his hand and tell him, finally, _ I like you. _

“I don’t know if I’m king-material,” Skiff says, at last. By the glint in his eye, he must understand what Siren’s thinking. “But I’ll think about it.”

“You’re a natural leader,” Siren answers with full honesty. “I would be honored to see you lead our castle.”

Skiff nods once, then claps him on the back. He grins impishly. “Go get your man.”

“...Please never say that again.”

* * *

“Siren!”

He turns, heart drumming frantically. Sera and Sol are swimming towards him, smiling in greeting. _ Not Kappa. _His chest sags a little.

“Hey guys,” he says, pasting on a faint, hopefully comforting smile.

_ “Siren,” _says Sera, tugging impatiently at him as soon as she reaches him. Sol leans over to catch his breath. “Come with us!”

Siren blinks, surprised. “Oh, well, I have something I need to do…”

“Mr. Beacon is lonely,” Sol informs him, wide-eyed with youth. “We’ve been visiting him, but you should come see him.”

“Can—can you take me to him?” Siren asks, mouth dry. Sera and Sol look up at him with twin nods.

Sera’s pigtails stream behind her as she leads them to Kappa; Sol clutches his sister’s hand; Siren swims slowly, protectively on their periphery. They attract a few looks in the halls, but everyone is gracious, understanding.

“You’re friends with Mr. Beacon, right?” Sera asks, pausing near a doorway. Her gaze is slate-blue and paralysing, heavy with piecewise wisdom.

“Yeah.” He stumbles over the word, nervous from nothing.

“Good,” She nods, smiling with a quick flash of teeth, and gestures to the doorway. “He’s in there.”

“Thank you,” Siren says sincerely. He pats their heads awkwardly. “Let’s hang out later, okay?”

“Okay!” Sol giggles, shy under his hand. Sera offers him good luck, and then they’re gone, small and spirited, around a corner.

Siren takes a steadying breath. _ It’s just Kappa. _ He touches his pulse point, willing it to calm down. _ Kappa... who I am in love with. _

He blushes despite himself, hand pressed against the doorframe, and swims forward into the room, clutching his feelings precariously—preciously to his chest.

Kappa is exactly as beautiful as Siren remembers, a glimpse of gold-beaded scales and soft refracted light.

He feels the exact moment when the catalyst reconnects them, like the final puzzle piece clicking back into place—Kappa whips around and overbalances, eyes going impossibly wide, swimming towards Siren faster than the prophecy can pull them together.

They meet in a flurry of awkward motion, tails flicking with nervous energy, arms clutching at each other. These sort of embraces are usually reserved for near-death experiences, but it feels natural to gather each other together, now. Siren feels a tremendous relief at Kappa’s head tucked into his neck, the space between them finally closed.

Kappa tilts his head closer, his nose nudging against Siren’s throat. “Hi,” he whispers shyly. The ripples of his breath flutters over Siren’s collarbones.

“Hi,” Siren replies, smiling stupidly. They’re still holding each other; his fingers cupping Kappa’s neck, Kappa’s hands pressed to his shoulder blades, and Siren—impulsively, suddenly in love—moves closer to leave a kiss against Kappa’s hairline.

He pulls back (barely) so he can properly see Kappa, who’s blushing and looking up at Siren with a fondness he doesn’t deserve. It soothes the imprecise question of rejection in Siren’s stomach.

“How are you?” Kappa asks. His face is lit up with happy curiosity. “How was your trip?”

“It went… fine.” Siren recalls the chaos of the meeting. “I defended your honor in front of everyone.”

“My prince,” Kappa says dramatically, falling against his chest. He peeks up at Siren, smiling, and Siren smiles back, ignoring the things it’s doing to his heart.

“How are you?” he asks instead.

Kappa’s tail curls. “I missed you,” he admits.

“I’m glad to see you again.”

“But—” Kappa pulls away, face suddenly downcast and closed off, quietly wrestling with something unspoken. “But you’re going to have to leave again, right? You have to lead your castle, and you can’t—I’m not—”

“Actually,” Siren says, “I offered Skiff the job.”

“W-what?”

“I never actually liked being in charge. It was too stressful, and I was always busy. Besides,” Siren looks over at Kappa, “I wanted to pursue… other things.”

“Oh.” Kappa twists his fingers together. “I guess I thought you left because I wasn’t useful to you as the Beacon anymore.”

“What? No!” Siren says, aghast. “No, you’re—I _ care _ about you, Kappa. I don’t care if you’re the Beacon or not, you’re important to me.”

Siren exhales slowly, looking out into the open ocean. “At the conference, some of the other castles were only interested in you because you were the Beacon. They only wanted you to fulfill their prophecies. And they were so disrespectful!”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Kappa replies, without heat. His face speaks of weathered injustice, his hope pinpointed on Siren.

“I’m sorry,” Siren murmurs.

Kappa looks down, tugging on his fingers. “Well... I know what _ I _ want, and I’m not going to complete the prophecy.” His glow pulses around his body, and he suddenly looks up at Siren; definitive—striking. “I’m _ choosing _ to fail. I count that as a success.”

“You’re incredible,” Siren says earnestly, clasping his hand. He plants a kiss on it, because he can, and watches a blush grow over Kappa’s cheeks.

_ “You’re _ the incredible one,” Kappa says. His eyes shine as fragile and well-worn as seaglass; light spun into pure adoration. He squeezes Siren’s hand. “I want to spend more time together. I want to stay with you.”

“I’d like that,” Siren says immediately. “Please.”

Kappa floats closer, cautious, until their foreheads rest against each other. There’s never been more than a couple feet between them, but now only mere inches separate them. They’re suspended in the grandness of the sea, completely enamored in each other.

Kappa’s hand brushes Siren’s jaw, gentle. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” Siren breathes, leaning forward, pulse pounding.

He’s never kissed anyone before. He’s pretty sure the angle is wrong, that their noses are not supposed to be poking into their cheeks, but Kappa is holding his face tenderly and their lips are pressed together and _ holy shit he’s kissing Kappa. _

He moves closer, eyes slipping closed. It’s open trust, and Siren is immeasurably cocooned by the warmth and welcome of it. A long moment passes, full of nothing but delicate touch and starbursts of grace.

They break apart, elated by the courage of the kiss, and Siren feels his face bunch into a grin. He opens his eyes to Kappa staring starstruck at him, blush sprinkled heavily over his cheekbones.

“Wow,” Kappa whispers reverently. A smile starts to break his face; wobbly, carefully happy. “That was… really good.”

“Ten out of ten. Would recommend,” Siren replies, giddy, and _ that sounded so stupid, oh my god why, _but Kappa is looking at him like he hung the stars, eyes crinkling, and Siren melts under his gaze, jelly.

_ It was worth it, _ he thinks, looking warmly at their linked fingers. _ Everything, for this. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheesy ending? yes, but these boys deserve to be soft
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!


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